


Open Your Eyes

by PercySnail



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PercySnail/pseuds/PercySnail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another (more than) drabble after (another) prompt from hystericalwomannovelist on tumblr.  The prompt was "open your eyes."  I hope this isn't out of character, I'm a little apprehensive about it.  I'm setting this about a year, a year and a half prior to the events in season 2 of Broadchurch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hystericalwomannovelist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hystericalwomannovelist/gifts).



It’s not as bad as she thought it would be. From start to finish, the procedure takes only 20 minutes. She’s got a high tolerance for pain, and this was mostly a mild discomfort. Perhaps more because of the knowledge of what is happening; then the actual procedure itself. The doctor had been much to her liking, quiet, steady hands, and then gone with only instructions to lay flat, eyes closed, until a nurse came back. She’d need to be monitored for the first treatment for an hour afterwards, in case of side effects. 

Jocelyn runs her fingers over the arm chairs, eyes fluttering a bit as she fights the urge to open them. She finds a crack in the worn leather, and wedges her fingernail in, digging. She sighs, bored. She should be grateful, really, she thinks, that it hasn’t been as bad as she thought it would be; but here, in the dark room, with no music or audio books, the blank space in her mind starts to roam. 

No, it hasn’t been so bad - which is good, really, she supposes, as she’ll be here monthly for the next two months - then every six weeks after that. Indefinitely. Her little secret; trips a half an hour inland to the city. The doctor’s assurances that if the injections don’t reverse the degeneration in her eyes, they’ll at least halt it for awhile. Slow down the inevitable. The inevitable blindness, which will leave her completely dependent.

Dependent, and alone.

Dependent, and alone, just the way she prefers.

A loud creak shatters the silence, and Jocelyn startles slightly. The loud plodding of footsteps comes closer, and she hears the nurse clear her throat.

“Mrs. Knight? Mrs. Knight, you can open your eyes now.” 

Jocelyn grits her teeth, before opening them. “Ms.,” she corrects, trying not to hiss the words. 

“I’m sorry?” She can see only the outline of the nurse, her shape blurred still from the coating they’ve put on her eyelids. 

“It’s Ms. Knight. Not Mrs.” Jocelyn swings her legs over, ignoring the hand the nurse is offering her. She’s grateful she can’t see the reaction, not sure she’d have the patience for it today. 

“Oooookay, Ms. Knight!” The nurse’s voice is cheerful, bright as she barrels to the other side of the room. She gives instructions as the two leave the exam room, headed to the foyer of the small surgery. Wear the sunglasses anytime she’s in the light for the next two weeks, she’ll be sensitive, all things she knows already. Jocelyn tunes her out, until the last part of her speech. 

“And your ride is waiting in the waiting lobby right now with your prescription!” 

Jocelyn stops short. “Excuse me?” she says, trying not to sound confused. 

“Your ride? Your emergency contact? Mrs. - sorry, Ms. Radcliffe?” 

Jocelyn mouth forms a hard line, as she directs her glare at the nurse. “You’ve called my emergency contact? I thought I’d given explicit instructions to call the taxi service.” The words come out in a brusque tone, venom dripping from her voice. She doesn’t want to drag Maggie into this, doesn’t want to drag anyone into this - this was her burden, her secret. No one else needed to know. She’d written Maggie as her emergency contact on the small chance that something would happen; assuming that nothing would. Or, if something had, she wouldn’t be around to deal with the fallout.

The nurse’s form is still a blur, but she can sense her retreating form. Ah, at least she still has it; the formidable stance, that one that terrifies anyone on the other end of it. She mutters excuses in quick form, and Jocelyn tunes them out.

“Well I suppose there’s nothing that can be changed now, oh I’m so sorry Ms. Knight, I just assumed - well, I assumed -” 

Jocelyn continues out the door of the surgery, her hand on her purse as she walks out. “That’s right, you assumed, instead of asking, and therein lies the problem, doesn’t - ?” 

“Oh Jocelyn,” she spots her then, as Maggie rises from the chairs in the waiting room, crossing over to the two of them. “Stop harassing her, Jocelyn,” she says, her tone light, but serious as she lays a hand on her elbow. “She didn’t break any laws, and besides, it’s not like you were going to drive yourself home.” 

Jocelyn snaps her arm back, out of Maggie’s grasp. Squaring her shoulders back, she tries to maintain dignity, despite the fact that she’s unable to make out anything but colorful blobs. “I was going to take a driving service, Maggie,” the words come out in a snap, and she feels a pang of regret; yet she’s unable to stop herself from continuing. 

“I don’t need your help.” 

She’s grateful, for once, that she can’t see Maggie’s face. She can’t help it, this streak in her that makes her push others away; this twist in her that especially makes her put as much emotional space as possible between herself and Maggie Radcliffe. She can’t help it, she can’t stop it, yet she always regrets it when the shadow crosses Maggie’s face. At least today, she can’t see it.

She hears the intake of breath, the exhale, and Maggie’s slight huff. “Well I’d beg to differ, and besides, I’m here now.” Jocelyn shrugs, petulant. “You might as well come with me.” 

Maggie listens to an abbreviated version of instructions from the embarrassed nurse, before she threads her arm through Jocelyn’s. Jocelyn gives slightly, aware that she really does need the guidance right now. The dark glasses they’ve given her make her nearly blind; and as they emerge into the lot, the sunlight barely makes a difference in what she can make out. Maggie steers her towards the small car, opening the door for her, but letting Jocelyn slide in herself. 

The first five minutes pass in silence, as Maggie navigates through the small city streets. The stops and starts give way to smooth driving before Maggie breaks the silence. 

“When were you going to tell me, Jocelyn?” The words are quiet, laced with a tinge of sadness. Jocelyn doesn’t answer for a moment, unsure of what to say. The truth was that she had hoped not to; had hoped to keep this secret to herself. 

“I wasn’t.” Her response comes out in a rasp, a thickness to them she can’t quite get past. “I wasn’t going to, Maggie.” 

She doesn’t want to be a burden, doesn’t want anyone to have to care for her. She doesn’t want anyone to assume that role; especially her. She’s chosen this, chosen this solitude and this...friendship. She doesn’t need to be her duty.

“I know what you’re doing Jocelyn Knight.” The words break the reverie, and Jocelyn blinks, turns towards Maggie. 

“And what would that be?” 

“You’re sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself, and trying to figure out a way to get me to butt out.” Maggie says the words emphatically, a positive tone to her voice, and Jocelyn harrumphs. 

“I’m right,” she says, her voice a sing song, and Jocelyn makes a face at her. 

Maggie looks over, taking her eyes off the road for a moment before looking back. “Jocelyn, you don’t have to do this alone, you know.” 

Her tone is serious now, the playfulness gone. Jocelyn can’t make out her face, but can hear the earnestness in her words. 

“I won’t be a bother, Maggie,” she mutters, trying to hold on to her resolve; trying to ignore the warmth in Maggie’s statement. 

“A bother?” A light skepticism on Maggie’s part echoes in the car. “Jocelyn, we’re friends. You could never be a bother.” 

Jocelyn blinks, unsure of how to respond. There is, as always, a certain gratefulness, coupled with the remorse and anger at herself. A gratefulness that despite their past, and her own longings, she can have this piece of Maggie; this unreserved unselfishness. But there's still the underlying need to push; turn away the solicitousness; wrap herself up in her own regrets. Continue to tell herself she doesn't deserve what Maggie will give her.

A hand on her knee, a quick squeeze before it's pulled back. "Stop it, you. Just let me help." 

Jocelyn supposes this time; maybe she should.


End file.
